Vermillion
by Messere
Summary: Izumi is the culmination of generations of the royal family's moral failings. Born into a world seeking to relegate her kind to the tomb of history, she must untangle the web of her family's sordid past to understand her place in it.
1. Birth

_The universe saw it fit to welcome her into life with thunderous applause. Flashes struck across the onyx sky, her first greeting from the tumultuous world around her. Sounds cascaded around her like a symphony. Her mother's whispers she can't recall the words to, her father's promises long since forgotten. She recalls one distinct sound, though it might just be a memory of the other countless times she's heard it._

_"Izumi."_

_The mother's hands are nervous. She holds her awkwardly, and the father smiles and takes the sleeping newborn from her arms. The raven-haired woman scowls and turns her head away dejected. The father sees, and, as always, knows. He puts his arm around her, and pulls her in, cuddling their miracle between them. She becomes melancholy again, and he must bring her back to the reality lying in front of them._

_"I can't do this."_

_He strokes her hair and gazes into her eyes._

_"There's never been anything you couldn't do."_

_His eyes drift over to the bundle, now firmly in the mother's arms._

_"There will never be anything you can't."_

* * *

_She grows, and watches, and listens. She watches intently as her father feeds the turtle ducks, and when he holds out his hand so she can grab some bread, she reaches cautiously. She looks on in awe at the creatures swimming before her, captivated by their fluffy feathers. A shadow peers over them, and the mother turtle duck corals her offspring, swimming away hurriedly. She looks up and it's her own mother towering above. Her mother's eyes linger on the empty pond a little too long, so her father corals them._

_"…It's almost dinner, let's go inside."_

_She's curious, soaking up everything around her, honey and poison alike. She watches her mother burn the flowers in the garden when they go for a walk. She'll pick one with lopsided petals, or one with a duller color than the rest, and turn it to ash. Her flames look cold, but the toddler is entranced by them. She reaches out to touch, and she feels her mother's warmth surround her._

_"Not yet Izumi, but soon."_

_She dreams. Sometimes of wonderful spring days in the gardens with all the flowers and the vibrant butterflies fluttering around. Some nights her dreams paralyze her with fear, stricken by vivid visions of a monster burning the gardens and devouring the turtle ducks. One night she wakes up crying and makes the arduous trek through the long hall to her parent's room, her stuffed rabbit roo dragging close behind. The guards aren't around to impede her journey. She stands in the doorway until her father awakens, his eyes half closed, squinting at the tiny shadow staring at him._

_"Izumi, are you okay?"_

_Through sniffles she recounts how the palace grounds were decimated by the ravenous beast._

_With a sympathetic smile Zuko pulls the covers back and gestures for her to get in. She climbs in between them, a strangely familiar place. Azula stirs and chastises him for coddling her. But hours after her arrival she wakes briefly to find her mother's arms drawn around her in a warm embrace. The scent of lavender mixed with cinnamon surrounds her, and her mother's steady breathing lulls her back to sleep. The gardens are blooming with life once again, and the sun is brighter than ever._

_Days pass quickly, each one seemingly shorter than the last. She starts to notice more. She can't help but see little details, can't help but dig her fingers into the fabric of this family, picking apart the tapestry of lies her parents have woven around her. They look so similar, like mirrors of each other. Their golden eyes are windows into the past, but they're fogged and blurry. For all their differences, they both carry old wounds. Her father wears his openly; he has no choice. It's his badge of resilience, proof of perseverance through a life of trials. Her mother's are covered by pale flesh, so far down that Izumi can't make out exactly what or where they are. But the expressions in her eyes, the shadows within them, tell of a woman carrying a heavy burden. A woman still bleeding, still in pain._

_Her tutors are nice. She's shy, but inquisitive. Too inquisitive. She asks questions that are impossible to answer, ones that are to remain unanswered. She asks about her lineage, much to the discomfort of the lanky old man who instructs her on their nation's history. She asks about the war, and the previous Fire lord. He tells her things, but they aren't the things she wants to know. She's remarkably astute for her age; she knows omissions are just another form of lies. She presses him for the answer she desires most; her mother's background. She's persistent, and he tries his best to indulge her without divulging too much. She takes mercy on him, knowing that he's saying what he must to keep his head off the chopping block. Metaphorically of course, or at least she hopes._

_Her parents are constantly busy. Her father controls their nation, and her mother controls her father. She isn't sure which of them is truly in charge. Her father wears the robes and the headpiece, but her mother was seemingly born to be in command. Everything about her exudes power. Her posture, her demeanor, her gaze, her voice. Father is lucky to have her at his side, managing the many components of the massive machine they call a country. But her mother isn't always the most tactful, and beneath her composed surface lies a woman struggling to be understood. The Generals understand her "advice". The soldiers understood her orders. But father understands her when no one else does. She thinks her mother truly fortunate to have someone who can keep her grounded, who can love her despite her abrasiveness._

_Despite the demands of being Fire Lord, her father occasionally finds the time to tuck her in at night, hug her and kiss her. Her mother is distant and shows less affection with each year that passes. She doesn't sing to her, or hold her, or help her with her hair, or play with her. Sometimes she's not sure if her mother loves her much at all, or if she's just an accessory, another feature that comes with the palace and the crown. But Izumi doesn't see Azula watching her sleep from the doorway at night, the faintest hint of a smile on her face. She doesn't feel Azula pull the blanket over her, so she won't get cold. She's numb when her hand, awkward and unsteady, runs across her head,  
_

_One morning her great uncle arrives unexpectedly and takes her into his arms. He's strong yet soft and smells heavily of jasmine. He marvels at how big she's gotten and starts to regale her with tales of his life in a faraway place; a city within two walls. Her father comes to greet them, and the two men embrace. Her father smiles and so does Uncle. But there's something underneath the surface, seeping through the cracks in their lips. Their faces belie what's beneath; greater stories, greater tragedies, greater secrets. Her uncle takes her father aside and whispers things. She can't make out most of it, but she manages to catch the most crucial part._

_"…Why don't you have her come stay with me for a while? It'd be good to get her out of this stuffy place, let her breathe and experience the world a little."_

_Her father looks conflicted. He glances back at her briefly, and sighs._

_"Azula would hate me."_

_Uncle places his hand on father's shoulder, his eyes sad._

_"I understand nephew. The offer is always open." He perks up and calls over to her. "Now, how about some lunch, eh? A growing girl needs to eat, and an old man needs his tea."_

_She musters a meek smile and follows them inside. The feast is great, as always. But not even the succulent pheasant hawk and the sweet cherry tarts are enough to distract her from her mother's absence._

* * *

"Good times become good memories, but bad times become good lessons." It's something she imagines Uncle would say. "Only fools waste time dwelling on the past." That's what Mother would say.

There's nothing she'd like to forget more than this morning. But this will be branded into her head until she dies; the first of many events to demarcate her childhood from an early onset adulthood.

She's made her first flame. She's a late bloomer, so late they were beginning to wonder. She could've laughed about it if the maids hadn't told her mom, painting the target on her back. It was an accident she swore. She hadn't meant to burn a hole in the burgundy drapes that lined her window. She was swatting at a bat fly when it happened. Mother's eyes are on her now, watching her every movement, scanning her. She's sitting on the opposite side of the table, but Izumi swears she can feel nails digging into her skin. The smile she gives her makes the neophyte bender's heart race. Mother tells father, who offers to get her a teacher. Mother is indignant and tells him she'll be her teacher. Father can never hide his feelings; concern is spread across his scarred face. His body tenses. He wrings his hands. She bares her teeth and snarls at him. He relents.

"Meet me outside at the crack of dawn tomorrow. Don't be late."

Izumi doesn't sleep that night.

* * *

"Again."

She throws a punch. The spark is pathetic.

"Again!"

She throws another. Nothing this time.

"Your stance is wrong, and your breathing is off."

They've been at it for hours, and she's still struggling to conjure anything satisfactory. Azula walks her through the basic katas again and again, but something's off that she can't fix, no matter how many times she uses her hands to correct her daughter's limbs. She's beginning to become irritated. How could a child of hers be so woefully inept?

Her mother summons her own flame, and hurls the azure blast at her feet, causing her to fall backwards. Azula smiles cruelly, and laughs. "Get up." It's not a suggestion, but a command.

Izumi fights the tears in her eyes threatening to escape, to reveal her weakness. She tries to steel herself, her knees shaking. Just as her mother looks ready to send another blast her way, her father intervenes, furious with the display before him.

"That's enough Azula!" He grabs her wrist and pins it back. She rips it from his grasp and storms off.

Her father's worried gaze makes her breakdown. She can't contain her own frustration, her feeling of shame, any longer. She runs back into the palace sobbing. She is a failure, not worthy of the gift of fire. She doesn't want anyone to look at her, to see just how _worthless_ she really is.

She overhears them later that evening. Her mother is talking about her, her disgrace. Her father defends her, but his voice drips with pity, and Izumi feels her stomach knot in disgust. Tears pool in the corners of her eyes again, and she slumps against the wall, sliding to the ground until she sits behind the pillar, head downcast. She listens to the echoes reverberating around her, mocking her. She tries to shut them out, but she still hears tones of disdain and compassion struggling for dominance.

"…She's just so weak."

"She's _your_ daughter. The potential is there, she just needs time to reach it. She's young."

"When I was her age, I was…"

"You're a prodigy Azula. Stop comparing everyone to yourself."

"Like you said, she's _my _daughter. What better standard is there? You're only excusing her inadequacy because she reminds _you_ of _yourself_."

Her father's jaw clenches and his eyes narrow.

"You'll never understand. You were born lucky…"

"…I was lucky to be born," she finishes for him, rolling her eyes. "I've heard it a million times Zuko. Saying it again doesn't make it true."

He sighed, exasperated. "She tries hard. All she wants is your love, your approval. You can't treat her like that!"

She turns away and looks down at the ground, expressionless. "Don't you love her?" The question cuts deeper than Zuko realizes.

"Yes." It's quick and it's muttered, but she can't hide the truth.

"Then show her."

"I don't know how."

"Guide her. You know she can be great. But she needs you to tell her."

Azula's smile is slight, almost invisible. But it's there, lurking. It's unsettling.

"You're right Zuko."

Izumi's never heard her say that. She's pretty sure she's never even heard the first two words leave her mouth unless they were dripping with sarcasm. The expression on her father's face concurs. She runs off to her room before they can catch her spying. She lies motionless on the bed, her eyes unblinking, thoughts consumed with the torture that awaits her. Picturing the humiliation her mother will subject her to. Will she have to duel her own mom? Perhaps she'll burn her. Mark her like father. It would be fitting. Then she'd be as hideous as her bending.

She drifts off and finds herself once more in the garden. The monster ravages the space, leaving mutilated corpses strung across scorched earth. It slithers in the air, twisting its scaled body across the hellish sky. It dives at her, talons bared. She tries to run, but her limbs are sluggish; the ground is like tar. The beast laughs at the way she drags her short legs, helpless and desperate. She ducks behind the ruins of a pagoda and holds her breath. The beast peers through the debris, glowing amber eyes meeting hers. It's her final sight as the demonic creature opens its jaws and exhales, covering her in a blue inferno.

The Fire lady sits at the edge of the bed, watching her daughter twitch and whimper. Her hand rises to give Izumi comfort, then lowers, then rises again, then lowers once more. She doesn't understand why she's hesitating. She wants to show compassion. She wants so badly to help her. But struggling against her own demons, Azula cannot save her child from being consumed by the blaze.

* * *

Morning comes early for the princess when Azula shakes her awake.

"Come on, let's go."

Disoriented and disheveled she drags herself over to the ornate vanity. She can barely see, her lids drooping, tempting her to fall back into sleep. After a few blinks her vision is clear enough to make out her own face in the mirror. Grabbing a brush, she tries to work out the knots in her hair with lazy strokes. She should try to look presentable, even if the only one who will see her is her mom. Ever the insufferable perfectionist, her mother would probably lecture her about the importance of proper appearance for a princess of the Fire Nation, or the inefficiencies of improper hair management before she picked apart her terrible bending abilities. She laughs inwardly, her thoughts interrupted by the woman whose features she shared.

"Stop wasting time, I don't have all day. Besides, you look…passable," Azula smirked.

Izumi wasn't sure how to respond, or whether she should bother. Her mother was always like that. Everything seemed backhanded, especially her "compliments". The young princess knew her mother liked burrowing under people's skin, mainly her father's, but she was beginning to suspect that even her insults were often insincere. A lot of her mother's interactions with her and her father were akin to a fisherman with his catch. Azula's baiting grew tiresome sometimes, and it irked Izumi almost as much as her curiosity about why she did it, and how she was so good at it.

Satisfied with her hair, she stepped away from the mirror and walked out of her room ahead of Azula. As she turns the corner she's stopped by a strong yank on the shoulder.

"Hey! What gives?" She asks, confused. She looks up to see her tormentor, arms crossed, her signature twisted smile spread across her face.

"The sparring room is this way, dearest daughter."

Her heart pounds, her palms begin to sweat, and her knees grow weak.

Her nightmare is becoming reality.

* * *

Update: Sorry for the long delay you guys, rest assured this fic isn't dead and I've still been working on it. I'll probably release chapters in groups rather than one at a time, unless it's a particularly big chapter with a lot of developments. Chapter 2 and most of 3 are done, and I'll try to get them out before the end of the month. In the future, If there's ever long gaps in uploads, I'll keep you guys updated on my profile so you'll know I'm still around and when to expect more story. Also, thank you to everyone who has followed, faved, and or reviewed! I appreciate all the input and support.


	2. Connection

_There was something cold about it. Though the palace lied in the center of the caldera she often felt a chill when walking its halls, an unnerving little twinge would flow through her small arms, and she'd feel compelled to scratch at it, tear whatever was scurrying under her skin out. Maybe it was the isolation, the stress causing her to imagine things. Maybe she was diseased. Maybe she was crazy. Faint, incoherent whispers followed her, surrounded her, bore into her skull. A symphony of wretched sounds, almost animal in nature, permeated each twist and turn. When her little feet turned the corner to come face to face with the visages of the past, the sound became almost deafening._

_She would stare at each portrait, her eyes tracing over their features. They were her ancestors, her family, yet she felt little connection to them. They were all vague, incoherent whispers. Frightening men, each one seemingly more imposing and brutish than the one preceding him. Her eyes would linger just a little longer on the man with the long goatee. Even in paint, the figure's eyes were unsettling, his posture intimidating, there was something almost bestial about him. It was something oddly familiar. If she dwelled on it for too long, if her eyes focused a little too hard, her head would start to pulse, her vision would blur._

_Her father's depiction was so different from the rest. Somehow, he managed to be both humble and prideful, stoic yet gracious, peaceful yet wild. Surrounding him were not the machines of war, nor the means through which it was supplied. The sun was brighter when it flanked him, the fire lilies vibrant and alive. The red dragon, the picture of ferocious determination, watched her, instilling a strange sense of comfort. _

_Comfort that abandoned her once her sight turned to the portrait of the woman beside him. If father's image portrayed a man in harmony with the natural world around him, her mother's betrayed a woman seeking to subdue and crush it. She wore a scowl, impatient and judgmental. Her palms lit. The background was bleak, black, dead. The blue ajisai which bloomed at her feet did nothing to obscure the smog emanating from the industry above. Circling above her was the ravenous blue dragon, whose eyes bore into her own, chilling her._

* * *

Their eyes meet. Her legs shake. It takes all her resolve to not get sick, to faint and collapse. Her vision is blurred. Her ears ring. She debates running but doubts she would make it out alive. To show fear is disgraceful enough; such a display of cowardice would certainly earn her a disowning…or worse. No, she's trapped. Her fate is decided. Her brain has come to terms with it. It's the rest of her body that's failing her.

Azula's eyes narrow.

"Since our lessons have so far proved unfruitful, I've decided to make some changes to your curriculum. I'll be taking a more hands-on approach."

Izumi stands still, feigning composure. It's a useless endeavor; She's an open book.

On the opposite end of the Arena Azula widens her stance, her talons bent upwards, ready to strike at her prey. She stares into her daughter's eyes. A reflection of herself in every way.

Her daughter is transparent. She's an open book, just like Zuko.

Azula fires, holding little back. It narrowly avoids the Princess' face, the young girl hitting the floor at the last second.

She's dazed and disoriented, and stumbles as she tries to regain her footing. She manages to pick herself up, slowly backing away as the predator advanced.

Izumi sees the reflection in her mother's irises. With every step Azula takes Izumi sees more of herself in her. Trembling, stumbling, crying.

_Pathetic. _

Azula closed the distance, launching faster strikes in quick succession. Izumi has backed herself into a corner. The dragon circles once again, ready to deal the killing blow.

In the last moments of her life, Izumi now realizes that her mother is not an obstacle that can be overcome passively. She can't walk around her or hide any longer. The beast only understands confrontation. It is how she navigates the world. Everyone that Azula deems worth her attention she sees in shades of red.

If these are to be her final moments, Izumi will not live them in cowardice. She's not strong enough to win, but not so weak she can't make one last defiant gesture.

Azula cocks back, ready to leave her progeny with a lasting reminder of shame.

She's an open book. And one Azula has read before.

The adrenaline flows, Izumi ducks, and levels her palm up to Azula's side, conjuring what little power she has, and thrusts her arm forward.

_What!?_

Azula stumbles, their eyes meet as she falls. For just the briefest second, Izumi thinks she sees her mother's eyes go just as wide as her own.

Perhaps she'd skimmed through too many of her daughter's pages.

* * *

_"Zuko, do you think I'm beautiful?"_

_Azula has always found new and innovative ways of rendering him speechless; no amount of time they've spent together is enough to remind Zuko not to dive headfirst into the bottomless pit that is his sister. _

_That's part of why Azula is fond of him. Zuko is her favorite toy. He's the most malleable, yet seemingly indestructible. Easy to bend, impossible to break._

_"What? Sure…I mean of course!" He has to stifle an exasperated sigh. He's just crawled into the tiger bore's cage during feeding time. _

_Azula licks her lips. "You sound conflicted brother. What's wrong, has childbearing taken its toll on me?"_

_She wiggles her hips, looking back at the mirror. "My backside has gotten bigger." _

_Zuko doesn't look…for long._

_Azula loves his trepidation, his hesitation. No matter how many times they copulate he refuses to admit just how much he enjoys it. But she knows he does. Doubtless he thinks himself so righteous to grant his poor sister his pity in the form of this relationship. He thinks himself so selfless to offer his unconditional love. True, Zuzu would have no shortage of suitors otherwise. As pathetic as he is, he is not without his merits._

_Besides, as far as she's concerned, it's the most logical conclusion. Zuko is the only man close to her position in society. Sure, he's not her equal, and he never will be. But even if he occupies the bottom spot, they're in a class all their own. She can't imagine wasting her time sorting through the nobility for unworthy suitors. She is far too important and her goals too lofty to be settling down with some incompetent. Yes, Zuko is lesser, but unlike the horde of leeches fighting over their table scraps he is not…nothing. He's…something. She enjoys the fight he gives her. It's almost…admirable. Contrary to what's written on his face, Zuko does not grovel. He has some measure of strength. Of resilience. He is a fighter, occasionally even a capable one._

_Yes, it is meant to be. It always was. And because it is meant to be, it will be. Azula will not allow it any other way. _

_What's important is that this will work. She will make it work. Unlike the woman who gave birth to her, she will not fail. Azula will not be bested by her. Not again._

_Izumi is her revenge._

* * *

The room was still washed in light when Zuko sauntered in late that evening. He wasn't surprised to see his sister still awake when he poked his head in but seeing her sitting up in bed staring at the wall was unsettling. If Azula was up in bed she was either reading, plotting, or antagonizing him. Usually some combination of the three.

"Are you going to stand there and gawk all night?" Azula snapped. Zuko walked in and shut the door behind him, dragging his feet to her side of the bed.

"I wasn't gawking." He peered down at her impeccably toned yet dangerously perturbed face.

Her gaze was still unmoving, but her tone softened slightly. "It's late. What kept you?"

Zuko sat on the end. "A message from the Earth Kingdom came. I guess your efforts haven't been in vain."

Azula snorted. "Brilliant observation as always Zuko."

"Look, I know you're in a mood…"

"I am not in a mood."

"…But I can fix that." His hand slid to the opening in her night robe. Azula didn't protest.

The moment was over as soon as it began however, as Zuko noticed the bandages covering her ribs. He pulled his hand back. Azula dug her nails into her palms.

"What happened?" His briefly lustful gaze was now mired by worry. Foul, disgusting worry.

"Training." Azula stated flatly.

Zuko seemed puzzled for a moment, but suddenly it clicked.

"Azula, what did you do?"

She let out an indignant laugh, almost sounding exasperated. "What did I do!? You sound just like _that_ woman Zuko. Save me your nagging for once."

The dig wasn't lost on him, but he decided it was better to ignore it.

"Then what happened?"

"She…she…"

"Yeah?"

"She caught me off guard! Me, Zuko. I was about to…" She paused just short of divulging the whole truth, the memory causing a strange sensation to arise in her chest.

The Fire Lord wasn't sure he should press her on the details, lest his sibling's dance around admission cause him further frustration. He felt he already knew what Azula refused to say regardless. As composed and opaque as Azula was, Zuko had known her for far too long to not notice how much information her mannerisms could betray. That Azula would even allow them to show was testament to the trust she put in him, or just how well he could read her.

The scarred man undressed and slipped into his night robe, crawling into the sheets next to his lover, burying his head into his pillow.

A silence lingered, interrupted only by the rise and fall of their breaths. Synchronized, mirrored.

"When I said, 'show her you love her', I didn't mean torture her more." The elder stated softly.

The younger's gaze held. "I'm doing _your_ job for you. What kind of father allows their child to go unchallenged? She needs to be built, refined."

"You think that's the best way to do it?"

"Of course. How else can I…"

Zuko turned to look at her. "Connect?"

She was silent.

He turned back over, closing his eyes. "Maybe when you're at peace with yourself you'll be at peace with who she is."

She huffed. "Okay Iroh, I get it. Thanks."

Azula snuffed out her lantern, and turned over, the movement causing her to wince. The wound was certainly uncomfortable, but it wasn't the prodigy's external injuries that would deny her a sound sleep tonight.

* * *

_From the moment Azula was born, she'd had her eyes on him. Scanning him with curiosity, excitement, admiration, pity, amusement, loathing, derision, hatred, bloodlust, obsession, and, what might loosely be referred to as affection. Zuko hadn't been aware of all the emotions that inlayed her looks. He hadn't cared to know. He'd been scared to know. Azula was a deceptive girl, but Zuko saw her for what she was: an apple with a shiny exterior, free of any blemish or bruise, but with a rotten, hollow core. She was sadistic and reveled in his pain and misery. To be the origin of that pain and misery gave her no shortage of delight._

_Zuko had forgotten the little girl who stared at him with wide eyes filled with wonder when he made his first flame. The girl who begged him to carry her on his back when her little legs gave out after tag in the gardens. The girl who forced her way into his room during thunderstorms to be surrounded by his warmth._

_That Azula had been an illusion. Gone sooner than she arrived. A sister replaced by a demon. A changeling. _

_The love between siblings died. It was a gradual death. The decomposition so slow that neither of them could feel it as the connection atrophied and withered. They'd been numbed to it long before it finally broke._

_Or did it?_

_Perhaps it was never truly broken, not entirely. But the damage was done. The changes undeniable. _

_Whatever it became was an abomination. What once had been a sturdy bridge between them became a jagged, rusted path over a bottomless abyss. A seemingly endless fall beneath a gap that neither could traverse. How could one repair something so warped and corroded?_

_As Azula grew into a young woman, she began to have urges. She felt the urge to exude power, to gain control over her environment and those in it. Zuko was always the closest in her vicinity. _

_She would take the lessons her father taught her and apply them. Exerting control over anyone and everyone brought her some degree of satisfaction, but nothing brought her as much as pleasure as exerting it over Zuko. There was something about the way he squirmed, his pathetic attempts to escape her clutches, that sent jolts through her. _

_He saw the way she would twist, the way she would circle him, how she would invade his personal space. Her face would be too close for comfort at times. _

_Almost close enough for her to taste him. His anguish, his fear, his hate. _

_His love. _

_Did Azula have no sense of personal boundaries? Did she not understand how inappropriate it was?_

_Even with these observations and thoughts, he failed to put it all together. Perhaps he refused to; the explanation defied belief and the implications were too horrid to contemplate. _

_Something was off. That much he could see in her eyes. They weren't looks a sister gave a brother. Her pupils would dilate when they caught each other's gaze. She held it for a little too long. _

_But of course, Zuko convinced himself, that was simply the result of the predator-prey dynamic they had, nothing more. _

_It never occurred to him to question why he allowed himself to so easily get eaten again and again. Why he could never run fast enough to escape. _

_And so, piece by piece, Azula tore him apart, again and again. _

_Swallowed, then spit out, then devoured once more._

_How could one love a sister like Azula? Did she even understand the concept of love? Could she ever? If she could, such a sentiment was surely not reserved for him. Perhaps their father. _

_How could she love a brother as worthless as Zuko? He was jealous of her abilities, her strength. Always the victim in a world arrayed against him, his seemingly endless suffering always kept him preoccupied. No matter how hard she twisted his arm, pushed him, how badly she burned him, he remained oblivious. Their Mother tried to insulate him from the realities that surrounded them. Watching them together was sickening; the touches and caresses vile. Their shrill laughter at inane nonsense made her ears bleed. The way they looked at each other made her stomach churn. The way he blindly followed her, seemingly attached at the hip, made her skin grow hot and itchy. _

_One day it became unbearable. Her head pounded listening to them praise and reassure. She had to resist the urge to claw her own eyes out watching the woman kiss and cuddle him._

_When Ursa was called into the palace, Zuko was told to stay put. "I'll be back shortly dear."_

_Their he sat by the pond, so content, so blissfully unaware. Until she tapped him on the shoulder._

_"Playing with the ducks again Zuzu?"_

_The quick transition of the boy's visage from surprise to irritation sent a faint shiver down Azula's spine._

_"Go away Azula."_

_Azula drew closer behind him, lurking over his shoulder. He hunched up, curling into his soft, thin shell._

_"A boy your age should be training, not frolicking in the garden with his mother, don't you think?"_

_"Nobody asked you."_

_It didn't matter whether she was asked, Azula always told. "If you spent more time practicing your bending, maybe Father wouldn't consider you such an embarrassment."_

_Zuko didn't reply with words, but in his eyes she got the reaction she sought. _

_"No, you're right. It wouldn't matter. No amount of time you spend will ever be enough. You'll always be a disappointment."_

_Frankly, it wasn't even her best material, yet spoken the right way anything out of her mouth could earn Zuko's ire. No matter what intent was behind it._

_The prince shoved her. "You're the disappointment Azula. Mom said…"_

_Zuko couldn't finish. Azula tackled him to the ground and pinned his arms back._

_"What will you do when she's gone Zuko? Will you follow her into the grave? I can arrange that for you." Their faces were dangerously close. Tantalizingly close._

_"You're sick." Zuko tried to push her off, but his struggling was futile. _

_"You can't hide behind her forever. What will you do when there's no one left to fight your battles for you?" _

_Zuko kicked and clawed but couldn't escape her grip. Surprisingly strong for a young girl. Or perhaps he truly was as weak as she accused him of being. _

_"Get. Off!" At last, mustering all the frustration and force he could, the young prince managed to push his tormentor off, kicking her in the stomach. Azula grunted and began to slip back but caught herself before falling. _

_Regaining composure, Azula prepared to strike him, but her wrist was caught, razors digging into her skin. _

_"Stop right now young lady!"  
_

Azula jolted awake.

* * *

I know I promised this update back in August, but I was lazy and decided to take my time. Chapter 3 is done and I'll put it out in the next few days. I just wanted to look it over again and make sure it's exactly how I want it. For those of you who've been anxious for real story development, chapters 3 and 4 will scratch that itch. These first two chapters were just for some basic character exploration and relationship development. I have a lot of plans for this story, and it's going to expand beyond the interpersonal dynamics of the royal family, so if the Fire Siblings and their twisted relationship isn't your favorite thing (I can't imagine why it wouldn't be), there may still be something in here for you.

Anyway, thanks for your patience. I know how disappointing it can be when you follow a story that takes forever to update. I'll try to avoid making you guys wait too long, laziness permitting.


	3. Trust

Izumi felt oddly invigorated today. Normally the dread of taking one of her instructor's vaunted tests would've cast a cloud over her, but today seemed abnormal in more ways than one. She'd awoke nearly an hour before usual. She wasn't tired, in fact she felt energized. The dark circles she'd worn under her eyes for the past week were gone. When she'd looked in the mirror, her eyes were a more radiant gold, her hair fell into place just the right way, and her skin was glowing in such a way that it would put her mother to shame.

Her mother had yet to join her for breakfast, another sign that today was different. Her mother was always here before her, always punctual, never late. At first, the prospect of getting to rub her nose in it delighted the princess. Had she ever had such a perfect opportunity to beat her mother at something? That it was over something so trivial didn't matter. Izumi relished the idea of being superior to her mother, and with so few chances to be she'd have to take it where she could. Yesterday didn't count. Though Izumi did take some small amount of pride in having surprised the blue fire wielder, she was not so foolish as to think that she'd bested her. Not truly. Even amid fleeting moments of youthful arrogance Izumi was wise enough to see just how lacking her meager skills were in relation to most amateur benders, let alone the woman who birthed her.

As time passed her mother's chair was still vacant, and Izumi's eagerness turned to boredom. Between small bites of food, she quickly glanced over at the doors, the disappointment growing with each minute that passed. The young heiress became so preoccupied with thoughts of her mother's absence that when the doors finally did swing open, she'd failed to notice.

Izumi fiddled with her cup of tea, lazily swirling her finger around the rim. She was deaf to the footsteps that passed behind her, and the voice of their source.

"Good morning". The voice was soft, and kindly. Not at all like her mother. More like…

Izumi's eyes grew wide as she flung herself out of her chair, putting a fist to her hand and bowing.

"G-good morning Father!"

Zuko was surprised by his daughter's display but returned the sentiment with a quick bow of his own and a warm smile, before taking his place at the head of the table.

Izumi waited for him to take his seat before she took her own again. Zuko watched his daughter out of the corner of his eye as she continued fiddling with her cup, her mask having slipped, her irritation seeping through, dissolving it. Zuko tried to make sure the rare opportunities he got to spend time with his progeny weren't wasted or marred by the resentment his daughter felt towards his wife. Running interference between them was impossible though, as the woman permeated their daughter's thoughts even in absence.

"How are you?" It was tentative and awkward.

"Fine." A curt response with no eye contact.

"How are your studies?" Zuko cringed inwardly at having asked. "_What a stupid question."_

The Fire lord had managed to elicit a sarcastic smirk from the thirteen-year-old.

"You know, same as always. I'm excelling in every subject except history. My instructor keeps telling me my knowledge of Fire Nation history is just 'satisfactory'. I failed his last quiz on the late Zhuo Guang era." Izumi furrowed her brow. "Not like it matters, nothing that happened before the war is important anyway," she muttered.

Zuko nodded. "I understand, I wasn't very interested in history either. Azula was always the one who memorized that stuff."

Agitated, Izumi dug her nails into her arms and looked down at her empty plate. "Yeah, you've said."

Sensing his daughter's discomfort, Zuko tried to redirect the conversation before it imploded.

"So, uh, your mom told me your fire bending has improved dramatically."

The young girl perked up slightly. "She did?" Her eyebrow was raised, skeptical.

"She says you're a natural; that you'll surpass me in no time."

Izumi couldn't help the small smile which formed on her face, though she remained incredulous.

"Dad, you don't have to lie to make me feel better. I know Mom wouldn't…"

Zuko cut her off. "I swear. I've never heard her talk about another person besides herself like that before."

Izumi's eyes grew wide and her smile spread across her face, though it quickly receded.

"Where is she anyway?"

"She's meeting with an ambassador from the Earth Kingdom. You know her, she likes to stay busy."

The young raven-haired girl smirked. "She didn't think you could handle it."

Her father rubbed the back of his neck. "Sometimes it's better to just let her take the reins on these things."

Izumi snorted. "Mom's not really the diplomatic type."

"You'd be surprised; Azula's better at human interaction than she lets on. She has a…way…with people."

"I guess that's one way of putting it. What's the meeting about?"

"It's a secret; only people who aren't failing history are allowed to know." Zuko gave her a sly grin.

"But that's not fair!" The princess pouted. "When are you going to stop treating me like a child?"

"You are a child Izumi. A very smart, capable one, but still a child."

She gave an indignant huff. "Sooner or later you'll have to start telling me things."

Zuko reached over to grab her hand, which she promptly pulled back, crossing her arms and looking away. She fought hard to remain composed, but it was always difficult to be stoic around her father. He was her haven, her sanctuary. She wasn't supposed to want to hide from him, yet now she felt more insecure than ever.

Zuko sat silent for a moment, mulling over what to say.

"Listen, sooner is going to come faster than I'm prepared for. You might be ready, but I'm not." His eyes wandered over to a small portrait of he and his sister.

"I know what saddling a child with too much responsibility can create. I don't need you turning out like your mother."

_"__I don't need you turning out like me."_

Izumi followed her father's eyes over to the wall.

"I thought you loved her." Izumi locked her eyes onto him.

"I do."

"Then why would it be a problem if I turned out like her? You're always telling me how strong she is, how brilliant she is at everything. Everyone talks about her as if she were perfect."

"I don't want you to suffer like she did. I want you to be happy."

"You're always saying the trials you faced when you were young made you into who you are today. How can I be prepared to rule if you won't let me face any trials of my own or tell me what I need to know?"

Zuko sat silent in contemplation for a few moments, then sighed.

"Okay, fine. I guess I can't keep you from finding out."

Izumi perked up. "I'm glad we finally see eye to eye Father. Like you said, it was only a matter of time." She gave him a look of smug satisfaction, pretending to examine her nails.

Zuko shook his head. "Now I see why you and her don't get along; you're too alike."

"Who? Mom? And me!? Not at all! Mom's mean and scary. I'm nice and adorable. See?" The faux-innocent face she made, doe eyes and all, resembled a visage he was all too familiar with. Before it brought feelings of dread. Coming from his daughter it was slightly amusing.

The faintest hint of a smile tugged the Fire Lord's mouth. "Trust me, it's not very convincing."

"Whatever," the Princess feigned offense, but there was a glimmer of a smile in her eyes.

"Look, I know she can be hard to deal with sometimes."

"Sometimes?"

"Okay, all the time," Zuko conceded. "But she loves you."

Izumi pushed her plate out of the way and crossed her arms. "She doesn't show it."

"In her own way she does. It's just…emotions don't come easily to her. She's not very good at expressing herself in healthy ways."

Izumi scoffed. "Sometimes I just wish…I wish someone would take her down a peg or two. Show her she's not so perfect. That she's human just like us."

"I think she knows that."

Izumi sighed. She knew he didn't intend to, but every time he defended her mother it felt like he was invalidating her. She wanted to buy the excuses. She wanted to be able to see what he saw, to navigate the maze as deftly as her Father could. She was desperate to know the woman her father knew. But she wasn't strong. She couldn't break through the wall.

_I shouldn't have to._

The conversation was over. It had run its course. Zuko took solace in the fact that at least this time they'd managed to have a small breakthrough. If more responsibility is what she wanted, what they wanted…he would acquiesce. But they'd be gradual about it. A little insight into the inner workings of their government would be good for her. Her curiosity would be sated, and it would be a good opportunity for them to spend time together. Maybe it would give her and Azula another chance to bond, to start fresh.

_"__Maybe."_

"May I be excused?" Izumi murmured. Her lessons didn't start for awhile still, but she needed to escape.

"Of course," He replied softly.

Izumi hastened to leave, but her father caught her by the shoulder just before she stepped out.

"When your lesson is finished, come by my office. I have something to show you."

* * *

She ran her fingers delicately over the rose petals again, taking in the hues of red.

Spring was her favorite season. It was wonderfully temperate, a much-needed reprieve from the archipelago's searing summers, and its dry winters. Its arrival brought new growth; the world's rebirth. In a way, she felt it perfectly represented her. She wanted to be balanced. She wanted the chance to blossom again and again; each time more beautiful than the last. Since she was a little girl, she'd been surrounded by people who embraced the season associated with their nation. They were temperamental, fiery. For all the nobility's pomp and decorum, for all their military's stoicism and rigidity, the people of the Fire Nation could not deny the soul of their element. They were not of Spring, but Summer.

Underneath all the theater, the machinery, the industry, the might, and the patriotism, was a raw, simmering fury. Izumi had observed the ferocity of her people. They were not the savage warriors of the Water Tribes, nor the hulking, perseverant horde that was the Earth Kingdom's people. There was a thirst they possessed, a drive to prove themselves superior. She'd learned what the unrestrained ambition of her forefathers had wrought. She'd heard about the demise of the Air Nomads, the annihilation of a peaceful people.

Izumi didn't understand it. She wanted to know peace. Serenity. Security. There was no peace in conquest. There was no serenity in brutality. There was no security in subjugation. How could her country have deceived itself for so long? How could they have been so deluded to think a war which lasted a hundred years, that cost untold lives of their fellow citizens and their enemies alike would bring peace? These questions circled whenever she thought about the future, about the mark she'd leave. What would the Fire Nation even look like decades from now? The world around them seem to be changing rapidly, in no small part thanks to her father. Still, the impacts of the war were omnipresent. She knew about the refugees. About the ruins of civilization left abandoned. The fathers and sons, mothers and daughters never to return, their bodies lying ashen in foreign lands.

Another row of roses, nothing out of place. No deformities, no bruises. Perfect. Had her mother taken up "gardening" once again?

She noticed her instructor hobbling through the door, his hunched back arching his body forward, providing a canopy for the bundle of scrolls he was carrying.

The old man met her gaze and smiled warmly. "Good morning Princess. Lovely day isn't it?"

"Good morning instructor Shi. Yes, it is."

Shi limped over to the small wooden desk that'd been set up on the grass and tossed the pile of scrolls on top. Izumi had to suppress a giggle. Shi was such a frail man, and every arduous step he took could've been mistaken for his last. Even the tiniest wiggle of the fingers looked like it caused him pain. His movements were slow and labored, as if his body had long ago stopped cooperating with his mind. But what a mind he had.

"I was thinking we'd cut the lecture short and go straight to the test instead. It's far too nice out to have you waste the day away listening to me."

Izumi did her best to act disappointed. "But sir, we're just getting to the most interesting part of Fire Nation history. I don't know if I can wait any longer."

"Well, if you insist…"

Izumi's mouth dropped slightly. Shi winked.

"Before we get started, I have something for you." His almost skeletal hands reached into one of the drawers, and produced a large book covered in dark green leather.

With great effort, his shaking hand managed to pass the hefty tome over. Izumi examined it, turning it over to notice the title, embroidered in silver: _地震狀態_.

Izumi cocked an eyebrow. "The Seismic State?" She opened it and began flipping through the pages. "What's this about?"

Shi reached into his desk once more, this time to find his glasses.

"The Fire Lord told me you were curious about politics. He wondered if I could teach you anything about the other nations, since he was set on teaching you about the inner workings of the Fire Nation himself. That book you're holding was written by a man named Lei Zheng- a pseudonym I presume- an Earth Kingdom nationalist. It's a manifesto of sorts. A blueprint for a unified Earth nation."

"Excuse me Instructor, but couldn't this be considered, you know…treasonous material?"

Shi laughed. "Why, what would give you that idea?"

"On this page he wrote about 'reclaiming the ill-gotten territory of the colonialist aggressors.' I assume he's talking about our colonies?"

"You'd be right. Your father didn't give me a curriculum to follow. He only asked that I expose you to different points of view. So, I thought it would be interesting to introduce you to something radical. It should go without saying that I don't agree with what it says. But that doesn't mean it's not worth reading."

At last, he procured his glasses from the unfathomable depths of his desk.

"Besides, if you're really worried…" He lifted his head up and gave a quick look behind his shoulder. "I won't tell if you won't," He said with a mischievous grin.

She smiled meekly and gave the book one last skim before putting it down.

"Now, I believe I have a test to give."

Izumi shuddered.

* * *

The day was still young when she was finished trudging through the exam. She hoped this time she'd done well enough to manage something better than "satisfactory", though she wasn't holding her breath. No matter how much she studied she couldn't seem to remember enough. It was pointless anyway. What good was knowing every little detail about long dead people and the kingdoms they presided over when it was disconnected from her present reality? Sure, the Fire Nation wasn't born out of thin air. It took millennia for it to become the world's technological and cultural leader. But what good would memorizing the early Fire Lords' doctrines be if they weren't applicable to today? With how far they'd come and the knowledge society had acquired she was sure even the lowliest peasant could run circles around the greatest minds of those eras.

Having dropped off her new book in her room, Izumi made her way through the labyrinth of corridors until she reached the door to the Fire Lord's "secret" chamber. Despite the exclusivity it was little more than a large study draped in red and gold, with two ornate mahogany desks and shelves lined with scrolls. Boring scrolls. She'd snuck a look once. It was an assortment of government ledgers, copies of land deeds, military supply quotas, messages from foreign officials, and requests for meetings with the sovereign. Not her idea of fun. But any time she got invited she leapt at the opportunity. There was something satisfying about being in a room meant exclusively for the Fire Lord and his most trusted advisor. It made her feel grown and important. As though she were already an equal party in a triumvirate, instead of the heir to the duumvirate.

Just as she was about to knock, she heard the muffled voices of the rulers arguing. She placed her ear against the door.

"I told him we'd accept the boundary here. No further. He relented after I kindly explained to him that he was marking too close to our territory. Unintentionally I'm sure."

"I wish you wouldn't be so cutthroat. We're supposed to be acting in good faith."

"Good faith? Dum-dum, he opened the negotiations with a proposal that would cut three of our colonies in half."

"I know, but where you marked leaves them barely any land."

"Maybe you'd have preferred I offered up a section of the archipelago? Maybe we should give your best friend the Earth King his own private island."

"Quit it. You know what I'm saying. And Kuei and I aren't friends…we're work acquaintances."

"You're on a first name basis apparently. And that pet of his seems to have taken a liking to you."

"What's wrong with Bosco? He's nice."

"He smells, he drools, and his table manners are horrid. What is it with you and animals anyway? They seem drawn to you."

"You'd be surprised at how many friends you can make when you try not being terrifying."

"Whatever. Let's stay focused on the matter at hand."

Izumi could faintly hear her father sigh.

"This would be easier if he were still here."

"The Avatar would've only complicated things. He would've wanted us to surrender everything to the Earth Kingdom."

"He was more sensible than that. He would've wanted a compromise."

"Well it doesn't matter now."

Izumi shifted slightly, and lost her balance, banging the side of her head against the door. It was a small tap, but loud enough for the sharp-eared woman to sense.

"Did you hear that?"

She considered running, if only to escape the certainty of her mother's snark. She was asked to be there though; she couldn't just hide in her room.

The door creaked open, and an arm pulled her into the office.

"Look Zuko, we've got a little spy sneaking around."

Izumi's brow furrowed. "I wasn't spying. Dad invited me!"

"I know. Who do you think told him to?" Azula tapped her finger against her daughter's nose.

An annoyed look crossed the man's scarred face as he leaned against his desk.

"But…" Agitation quickly gave way to bewilderment, and the girl couldn't manage a response. She looked at the Fire Lord for confirmation.

"I wasn't going to, but she insisted."

Izumi was floored. She knew he'd been less than enthusiastic, but she would've never guessed that her mother would advocate for her like that.

"I-I don't…" She stammered.

Azula smirked. "Don't look so surprised. You know you're going to inherit the throne one day. It's best to start preparing early, so you'll be ready when the time comes. Otherwise, you'll end up like him." She gestured towards her husband. "And I can't have Zuzu coddling you, making you weak. You were born to be a ruler, so you're going to be given a proper ruler's education, understand?"

Her daughter nodded.

"Good. This will be your first lesson. Would you like to explain Zuko, or are you going to have me do all the work?"

"Fine," Zuko sighed with irritation. Izumi, you might have already heard us talking…"

"I heard something about boundaries. And acting in good faith?"

"He calls it acting in 'good faith'. It's more apt to call it acting in foolishness," Azula interjected.

"Would you let me do this?" Zuko bit back.

Azula put her hands up in mock deference. "Of course, my _dearest," _she hissed.

Zuko shot her one last glare before reverting his focus back to his daughter.

"The Earth Kingdom has been insisting that we give them back areas of territory that were annexed during the war for awhile now. But the colonies they want returned have existed for a century. Some were even established before the war. Our people have been living in these places for decades, building lives for themselves, establishing communities, and the Earth Kingdom wants to uproot them, and have them deported back here."

"So, you're stuck between trying to be diplomatic and protecting what belongs to us," Izumi noted.

"Right."

"You don't think the Earth Kingdom would allow them to stay?" Izumi asked.

"We're doubtful. Your mother thinks that if we relent and give them jurisdiction the Earth Kingdom will use it as an excuse to seize their possessions. To make things more complicated, some of the colonies are industrial centers that are vital to our economy. We can't just give them up."

Izumi walked over to her father's desk and peered down at the map spread across it. She ran her fingers over the coarse paper, tracing the lines drawn to mark the various boundaries, until she landed on an area circled in red paint. "What's here?" Zuko walked over to see what she was pointing at.

"That's Yu Dao. It's the oldest of our colonies and an invaluable source of metal. I thought you were good at geography," He teased.

"Better than you. Yu Dao is over here." Her finger shifted downward to the southeast. A look of confusion enveloped his features, his eyes quickly moving back and forth between his map and Azula's.

"Huh? Then what did I mark?" Zuko asked confused.

Azula walked over and drew close to her brother, and brought her hand beside his own, pinching it. Quickly he remembered.

"Never mind. Not important."

Izumi found the sudden shift odd, but since she couldn't put it past her Father to make an honest mistake, she dismissed it.

"Anyway, I have to get going. Some nobles requested an audience." As Zuko left he ran his hand over his daughter's shoulder and gave it a brief squeeze.

The door shut behind him; a soft creaking sound amplified in Izumi's ears. Out of the corner of her eye she watched her mother sift through papers. No wincing as she shuffled around, no gritting her teeth when she bent over. A strange mixture of relief and disappointment overtook her. As her child Izumi didn't want to see her mother hurt. But as a rival…

The woman caught her gaze. "Yes daughter? Do you need something?" Azula's tone was oddly soft, almost pleasant, endearing.

"I…uh…I'm…" Izumi stammered.

"Hmm?" Again, her tone was somewhat…sweet. It didn't drip with the usual hints of judgement and impatience.

"I…I wanted to say thanks. For bringing me into the fold. For trusting me. I…I won't disappoint you." Izumi gave a meek smile.

Azula returned it with one of her own. Soft, kind. Almost looked like a mother. A normal mother.

"You won't. You're my daughter."

Three little words, yet Izumi was unable to process all the emotions that they sparked inside her.

_"__You're my daughter._ _MY daughter."_

Her heart swelled.

"I'm proud to be." Izumi came behind the woman and gave her a quick hug. She can't remember the last time she felt this close to her, being in such proximity to her without feeling burned. Though the moment was brief, she'd swear to cherish it forever.

"I'll see you later tonight." Izumi gave her mother one last wide grin before exiting, shutting the door gently behind her.

Azula sat at the desk and looked down at the map "Zuko" had marked.

She smirked.

_She's my daughter._

* * *

Update: I'm alive. This story isn't dead, and more chapters will be put out in the not too distant future, should everything go according to plan. I've been slow to put anything out because I'm lazy and was focused on other things, plus my laptop has been performing like shit lately. I want to sincerely apologize to everyone who has been keeping up with this fic. Thank you so much for your patience and continuing support. I never would've thought with how short and slow to update this story is it would garner as much of a following as it has. I will warn you that long lulls are a hallmark of my writing process; I'm not a particularly diligent worker when it comes to hobbies and side projects. I promise if you bear with me that this story will continue to delight you with all its sick, delicious depravity: sibling...err...spousal bonding, psychological abuse, parental love, angst, violence, plotting, political subterfuge, and tea that your heart desires. Rest assured, this fic isn't at a standstill because of lack of ideas. It's all there in my outline! I just have to translate it into something that people actually want to read.

Anyway, hope everyone is doing okay. World's kinda gone to hell, I hope you and yours are weathering the storm. Hopefully I can give you all an escape and something small to look forward to in the coming months.


	4. Unspoken

"_The population must be harnessed and mobilized to strengthen the country from further incursions by treacherous outsiders. To rid ourselves of their presence, the population must divest itself of the notion that personal comforts should take priority over the sacrifices which must be made to purge this land of the vermin who colonized it. Like the Fire Nation's brutalized hordes, we must disregard the notion that we are autonomous, separate peoples. True fulfillment can only be found in service to the nation and to the state that builds upon it."_

Izumi yawned and stretched. It was getting late, long past the hour where the palace went still. The fires had dimmed for the night, and the only remaining sounds were the soft patter of the night guards monitoring the halls, the hushed whispers of the latest rumors and the soft laughs shared over crass jokes. The dull orange glow of the lanterns next to her bed illuminated the book in her hands.

_"For millennia we've been divided. A loose conglomeration of city states swearing fealty to a lumbering monarchy, an archaic institution that only serves to indulge the excesses of itself and the bloated nobility that supports it. Without strong, centralized institutions to provide order and protection our nation has been divided and conquered, its people are left destitute. All while the ineffectual leadership in Ba Sing Se fiddles with its fingers and looks the other way."_

It was a surprisingly captivating read. Though it tended to rant, the value of the messages within were not lost on her. This was effective propaganda, but the premise was laughably absurd. A unified Earth Nation was as likely as the resurrection of the Air Nomads. The strongholds and cities and the warlords and proclaimed kings that presided over them had decided long ago that allowing Ba Sing Se the mantle of center of the confederation was worth retaining a degree of autonomy. The hundred-year war had masked the divisions between them, the fear of Fire Nation annexation providing some semblance of unity between states that would've otherwise been warring with each other. With the end of the century long conflict, an important mediator had been lost. If there had ever been time for someone to consolidate control over the vast territory the war had been the pretext.

She closed the book and shoved it back into the drawer of her night table, then snuffed out the torches.

* * *

The streets of the outer caldera had largely been vacated hours ago, with the few remaining drunken stragglers returning home, kicked out by the bars and corralled by the home guard. As pristine as the capital was, it was no secret that the relaxed laws brought by the end of the war had allowed for a growth of petty crime in its outskirts. It had always been there, but lately it had spread out of the crevasses of the underworld, looking for new opportunities to flourish. Among the many struggling to subsist were the hordes of veterans left without a war to fight. Though many had returned home to live honestly, there was no hiding from the uncomfortable truth that many others had decided to utilize their skills for less respectable endeavors. For these soldiers, the seedy dens served as their barracks.

The dingy, poorly lit alleyway that led into one of these inconspicuous dens was where one such man found himself now. His silhouette, lit by the torch in his hand, graced the stained wall as he stood before the small black iron door. He tapped his knuckles against it, a familiar rhythm that he knew by heart. One knock, pause. Two knocks, pause. Two small knocks, one loud. He was greeted by a pair of black eyes through the opened slit that narrowed when they realized what they were looking at.

"We're closed." The gruff voice barked, slamming the peephole shut.

The skinny man rolled his eyes and tapped his foot, checking his pocket and glancing nervously behind his shoulder before knocking once more. One knock, pause. Two knocks, pause. Two small knocks, one loud. This time the slit stayed closed.

"Oh for Agni's sake. I'm getting chilly out here. Are you really gonna let a man freeze to death?"

There was no response from the door. The man tried another set of knocks.

"Listen, I've got the thing. Let me in!"

The slit opened this time, and the skinny man could hear a latch come undone from inside. "About damn time," the nasally voice sighed.

"Not so fast. Show me."

"Excuse me?"

"Show me."

The lank man reached into his pocket and pulled out a small white bag tied with red string and held it up to the slot.

"That's it?"

"Yeah, this is it. It's all there."

"Looks a little light."

"I'm telling you, it's all there."

A second latch was undone, and the door swung open. The skinny man hurried down the stairs into the drab room below, hugging his arms to his body. The place reeked of mold, and the walls were covered in tattered, dirty wallpaper.

"I like what you've done with the place." He picked up a piece of fruit lying on the counter and bit into it, only to spit it out. It was rotted inside; the taste elicited a gag.

"You bite it you buy it." Without raising his head, the burly, gruff man had noticed while sorting through a stack of wooden boxes that lined the corner of the room.

Ignoring the bearded man, he shrugged and tossed the apple behind the counter. "You get customers here?"

The bearded man gave a grunt that loosely resembled "yes".

"The rats tip well eh?"

The bearded man turned to face him, glaring. "Why the hell are you here?" He tossed a small crate to the side with a bang that elicited a jump from his unwanted visitor.

With his composure quickly retained, the man shrugged. "What, can't stop by and say hello to my old friend Bu-Bu?" He watched the man carefully, awaiting the expected reaction.

As anticipated, the grizzled man knitted his brow and huffed, a sound more resembling that of a large animal growling than a soft breathe of exasperation.

"I told you not to call me that. After what happened in Gaoling I told you your first name privileges were revoked. And I never gave you permission to use nicknames."

The buzzing gnat of a man feigned anger at the slight. "That was almost three years ago! You're not still mad at your old buddy Sen, are you? After everything we've been through together?"

Bu Ran had taken to dusting the tables; not that it would make much difference to the quality of the decorum. The wood was splitting, the legs loose and flimsy. Chairs with uneven legs being propped up by stacks of Pai Sho tiles rested beside. There were questionable stains that had seeped into them. From what, Sen was unsure. Blood? Chewing tobacco? Something worse?

"_What the hell kind of business is he running here?"_

Refocusing his attention on his compatriot, he crossed his arms and leaned against one of the beams, jolting straight up once again after he felt the support shift slightly.

Bu couldn't help but let out another small huff. "You're using the term 'buddy' very liberally."

"I just paid off my debt. The least you could give me is a 'thanks', or 'I'm such a giant, ugly idiot to have ever doubted you. Please, let me kiss your shoes'."

"You're just lucky to still be alive at this point. Gave a lot of thought to hunting you down, ripping your limbs off, skinning you head to toe, taking your head as a trophy. I've been needing more conversation pieces in here," Bu said, with what amounted to a smirk on his unnervingly stoic face. "But this," He shook the small bag, "This might get me something almost as good."

Sen took a couple steps back. "Anyway…I assume you got my letter? Hopefully you actually read it this time."

"Oh yeah, I read it." Sen's face lit up with surprise. "And I found a better use for the paper." He nodded towards the back, a short, yet wide hallway that had an open, circular cage at the end of it. Sen could faintly hear clucking emanating from the floor boards now. His jaw dropped.

"Are you hosting possum chicken fights here!?"

Bu was unphased. "They're called pock fights, and it depends on who's asking. But only on Thursdays."

It took a minute for Sen to regain composure.

"So you're saying nothing in that letter sounded compelling to you? You'd rather waste away in this…fine establishment than undertake an epic quest that will etch our names into the halls of time immortal!? We can change the very fate of the world. Be its saviors, or perhaps even its destroyers!" Sen exaggeratedly held up his arms as his hands clenched into fists. "And of course, twenty thousand gold pieces as a sweet little cherry on top."

Bu yawned. "That's nice and all, but I'd prefer to keep my head. This little 'quest' of yours would have our necks sticking out a mile long. And after the bullshit you've fallen for, why should I even trust that the contract is for real? The kind of coin you're talking about, I figure could only be offered up by someone in a nice cushy position, someone you wouldn't want to cross paths with. They could cut the line and let you fall into the boiling sea at the first sign of trouble. Odds are it's a setup and someone's trying to catch a snake. You'll get tortured for information, maybe a couple teeth pulled, your scalp burned off, but you'll have nothing to tell em' and no names to offer up in exchange for a merciful death."

Sen, like so often before, hadn't fully considered what his proposed escapade could entail, despite the hours of giddy, sleepless nights he'd spent fantasizing about it. Sure, Bu could be right, it could very well be a trap. His head very well could end up on a pike, and his skinny body could end up chopped into hundreds of tiny pieces, their last voyage a short and inglorious trip down a tiger monkey's gullet. He wasn't wrong, he did have a knack for putting himself in situations where the deck wasn't stacked in his favor. Yet, to pass on an opportunity like this, with so much at stake…

"Besides, the last thing I want is to be remembered as a kidnapper. I know it means nothing to you, but I've got a reputation to protect."

Sen laughed. "What reputation is that? The accomplice to all my crimes? The 'Black Bear burglar'? Oh sorry, I almost forgot, aspiring restaurateur?"

The vein in Bu's head bulged. "How about, veteran who wants to be remembered for his service to his country, not the betrayal of it?"

"Well that cat's out of the bag, from a certain point of view."

"And what about _you_?" Bu stuck his thick finger in Sen's face. "Look at you, why the hell would anyone want you for a job like that anyway? Who needs a scrawny, loudmouthed fool like you for something that requires subtlety and brains? Have you even thought through how you'd get close? It's not like you can just walk through the front gate."

"Ascend the rope, climb through the tower window, sweep our lovely damsel off her feet and into my arms, descend, stop for a late dinner, then deliver the fair maiden to our mysterious benefactor. I've gone over it a million times in my head, and each time it only gets easier."

Bu spat out a laugh that sounded more like a bark. "Yeah, who wouldn't want to be stuffed into a bag by a guy as charming as you? You're out of your fuckin' mind."

"I resent that. One of these days you'll be forced to acknowledge the genius behind my madness. I'm not leaving for the spirit world until you do," Sen retorted, crossing his arms in faux indignation.

Bu had moved behind the counter, and was pouring himself a shot of some murky looking sake. He downed the liquid with no emotion, trying to sustain whatever semblance of sanity he could. The silence lingered for mere minutes, but there was enough tension filling the room for two lifetimes as the men studied each other carefully.

"Let's say I did help you. I assume there won't be any of that 'planner's' bonus' stuff you tried pulling last time. Even split, fifty-fifty."

"Make that, let's see…thirty-thirty-thirty" Sen said sheepishly, counting on his fingers. "Uh, plus a ten percent finder's bonus?"

Bu laughed. "You already roped another idiot into this? What poor fool did you trick this time?"

Sen smirked mischievously. The signature smirk Bu had always fantasized of tearing off his goofy face. "Don't worry, you're already acquainted."

Bu's face fell, an unusually emotive expression for him, though not surprising considering what he expected to hear.

"No, no, no. Hell no. No way. My grandmother would be more useful than him, and she's been six feet under for the last twenty years."

"That's pretty harsh. You know, he may not be much of a fighter, but he's pretty insightful. I have faith in that sixth sense of his."

"Yeah well, you weren't the one who had to rely on him to pull you out of a burning building. I needed a rope, not seer sight. I don't think it's even real anyway. It's that cactus stuff he's always downing."

"If I recall right his 'sight' saved your butt more than a few times during our operations in enemy waters. He wasn't drinking it then."

"We had access to world class navigational equipment, logistics, intelligence gathering. It's not the same as being a band of wayward scumbags with barely a couple bronze pieces between them. He was cheating."

Bu began to pour another shot, but decided it would be insufficient to temper the headache this conversation was giving him. He threw the ruddy old glass behind his shoulder, and drank straight out of the bottle.

"Plus, we didn't have a complete idiot leading us," the large man gave Sen a quick look from the corner of his eye, then went back to drowning himself in sake.

As lovely as catching up was, time was money in Sen's world. And though he had to admit talking to the old brute was more enjoyable than he'd expected, he couldn't afford to let nostalgia cut into his time, thus cutting into his money. A definitive answer was required. Would his former comrade join him on his quest to secure the poor noble who would serve as a bargaining chip for the devious figures who lurked behind the hedgerows of high society?

Sen stared him in the face, weary to make direct eye contact, but needing to impress the seriousness of his question. "So what will it be, are you in or out?"

Bu locked eyes back, his stare unwavering. He needed to impart the seriousness of his response.

"No way. Never again." His eyes relinquished their grip.

Sen sighed. "Fine. Suit yourself."

He pushed himself off the wall and stretched. "Well, thanks for the visit. Maybe we'll run into each other again someday."

Bu's eyes were fixed on the floor. "Don't count on it."

As Sen made his slow ascent back up the creaking wood slabs, he began to whistle a simple tune- jaunty, irritating, and upbeat. As his foot hit the last step before the door, he could faintly make out the distant rustling of boxes and bottles, and the frustrated words of an irritated proprietor. "…Where did I put that damn axe_?"_

_Your eyes betray you my old friend. As always. _

"Ahh, I love unspoken agreements."

* * *

_Studying the insects that paraded around the royal garden had become one of Azula's secret pastimes. The quick rowing motions of dragonflies; the soft fluttering of the fritillaries. Such insignificant creatures with predictable movements, and yet, surprisingly, so purposeful. Always working towards something. Their places in the world secured, with no need nor ability to question. No torturous thinking, no dreams or delusions of grandeur. Surely that was liberating in some way. To not even have a concept of one's self beyond what was necessary to complete one's tasks. For so many months she had wished for such a reprieve. To be free of the maladies of being trapped inside one's head. Hearing voices long silenced. Seeing visages long faded into nothing but mere memory. Even now, freed from her shackles, Azula sometimes found it difficult to look at herself, for she was not totally confident that what she saw was real. A girl removed from her restraints, well dressed, impeccably groomed. It seemed like her. It's how she would present herself. So why did it feel so foreign? Why did sanity feel...disquieting?  
_

_It had been but a couple months since her release. Her dearest brother, the reason she had been locked within that wretched prison in the first place, had decided to grant her leniency. Gracious Zuzu, always so noble and just. Visiting his sick sister. For over a year, working tirelessly to restore her broken mind. To bring her home, where she belonged. Of course there was nothing more motivating her loving Zuzu but pure familial affection. His righteous image, his position, his adoring public. Zuko didn't need to sacrifice anything to feign compassion towards his poor, disturbed sibling. So admirable, so foolish, so hopelessly him._

_How could the public accept such a weak leader? Didn't they see how Zuko's kindness had left them vulnerable? Didn't they realize she could organize a coup at her leisure, uproot the peace Zuko had worked so hard to maintain? How could they just accept him...accepting her?  
_

_No, it was all wrong. The world had been turned on its head in her absence. For example, the way he carried himself. More confident and self-assured than she'd ever seen him. With the way he strutted about, didn't he realize someone could come up behind him and slit his throat on a whim? Hadn't he considered how easily she could burn him into a crisp, letting his guard down around her like that? Did he think just because he'd managed to escape with his life in their last fight he had nothing to fear? Walking in front of her, without a care in the world, like she, the unconquerable Azula, wouldn't end his life at a moment's notice..._

_"Zuko, do you ever get the feeling you're being watched?" She'd caught him off guard, as he'd simply come to ask if she wanted to go for a walk, as was routine these days. _

_Confusion filled his face for a second, but he quickly rebounded. "I mean, I guess. Being Firelord does bring a lot of attention. A lot of it unwanted."_

_"You just seem so...unbothered lately. All the stress of ruling, yet you shrug it off like you don't care."  
_

_"I won't lie, I am pretty stressed out. But, I actually feel relieved. I was scared that all this authority, all this responsibility, would corrupt me. Would make me someone I'm not. At first I felt myself succumbing to that pressure, but now, more and more, I feel like I can handle whatever gets thrown at me."_

_"Aren't you afraid you'll slip up? That overconfidence could lose you everything." Such a suggestion was amusing coming from her, she knew. Maybe the irony wouldn't be lost on Zuko. But regardless, planting the seeds of doubt in his mind was second nature to Azula. And those seeds always bore fruit.  
_

_"Honestly, there was a period where I became paranoid. Where I started to look at everything as a threat, where I didn't feel like I could confide in anyone. I felt trapped, alone. And then...I really was alone. I felt so hopeless when..."_

_"When Mai left?" Azula finished. _

_Zuko nodded. Azula gave no response. No cutting remark. It all went without saying, right? She anticipated the conversation would end there._

_"But, these past couple months, I haven't felt alone at all. Not since you've been back."_

_Had she heard correctly? _

_"I don't think I have anything to fear with you around Azula. Since you've been here, I've felt nothing but hope."_

_In her head, Azula could only laugh at how dumb of a line it was. _

_Yet her chest betrayed her, as the quickest jolt of a flutter flew through her tiny black heart._

_She was quick to regain her senses. "Still, you should think about being a little more careful. It's good to show strength and assuredness in the presence of your subjects. But a wary ruler is a living ruler, understand?"_

_"Okay. I'll be more mindful from now on."_

_"Good."_

_Lost in the conversation and the thoughts racing through their heads, the siblings hadn't noticed they'd already completed their lap around the gardens. _

_"...Are you admitting you actually want me to live?"_

_"Oh shut up."_


	5. You're not so bad, for an evil witch

"_A single rose can be my garden; a single friend my world."_

* * *

_"She said I was too closed off, that I wasn't telling her anything. I tried, I just wanted to protect her. How is that wrong? What did I do to deserve that!?"_

_"Honestly Zuko, you're starting to annoy me."_

_"I just don't understand. You're a girl, can't you give me some insight?"_

_"Ugh, I should've never set you two up in the first place. It would've saved me from having to play therapist."_

_He ignored her and continued to debate himself._

_"I could've done more…I should have open__ed up…"_

_"Zuko, listen to me. You have a job to do, a nation that requires your constant oversight. Mai's happiness was secondary to that duty. If she can't accept that dating the Firelord requires sacrifice on her part then that's her folly, not yours."_

_He considered her words, listened as they battled internally with the memories of the arguments with his former girlfriend._

_"It's not like she kept secrets from me, she told me she wanted things to change. I guess I didn't see how badly I fell short."_

_"Why do you care so much? You're free of a burden, and Mai gets to be miserable with some other poor fool."_

_"I don't see it that way. Love isn't a burden."_

_"That wasn't what I was referring to."_

_"Look, I know she's not your favorite person, but…forget it. You wouldn't understand."_

_"Oh Zuzu, you're so dense sometimes." She placed her hand gently on his shoulder. Oddly, it felt welcomed. It was warm, not searing. Tight, yet her nails weren't digging into his flesh. It hadn't slipped his notice that Azula's touches had become gradually more comforting, as opposed to the subtle, manipulative gestures they'd been before. Whether she intended that or not, he couldn't tell; though knowing her the answer was likely no. Although…_

_"You want insight? Then listen. I've watched you torment yourself so many times over the years. You are…admirably passionate about your ideals, unwavering and resolute in pursuing your goals. You possess a commendable drive, a truly formidable will. Yet so often you dedicate your focus to the wrong things."_

_"Women appreciate traits like yours Zuko, but it's all about how you apply them. In Mai's case, she expected you to apply your focus to her. But not all women have that expectation. Some like to see you strive to better yourself, to work towards the goals you aspire to. To watch you face life's challenges and conquer them, crushing everything that stands in your way!"_

_Zuko looked at her with concern. While he was certainly accustomed to her megalomania, she sounded unnervingly gleeful. _

_Recognizing the spectacle she'd unintentionally become and sluffing off the brief shock of embarrassment, Azula recomposed herself and continued. "Ahem…anyway, you have nothing to be concerned about. Mai is just one girl. You're the most powerful man on the planet, getting a date is the least of your worries."_

_Zuko's demeanor didn't change, in fact, he seemed more morose now. _

_"I mean your appearance isn't a factor, if that's what you were worried about. You've got nice features…for someone with half their face looking like raw meat I mean."_

_"I don't care about that!"_

_She crossed her arms over her chest, anticipating the tirade she was about to be audience to._

_"You've always looked at relationships like they're something to win at, but they're not. They're complicated, and sometimes there's no overcoming the obstacles around them."_

_"Well if you already had an answer, why ask? Don't waste my time fishing for pity, because I won't bite."_

_"I don't want pity! You just always seem to have answers for everything. Sometimes they're better than mine." _

_"Sometimes?"_

_"You know a lot Azula, but I think you might be out of your element on this."_

_"Are you implying I don't know anything about romantic entanglements?" _

_"You just called them entanglements. That's how you engage with people, that's how you view relationships. You consider it pragmatically. Which is good if you want to take advantage of people, but it doesn't work if what you want is genuine companionship."_

_"You're not very persuasive then, if you can't have both."_

_"When has that ever worked for you?" _

_"I suppose...It's not like I've been given many chances to try, being a callous monster who pushes everyone away and everything."_

"_I didn't mean it that way."_

_"It's true though, isn't it? __You don't have to deny it. You can pat yourself on the back all you want, convinced that you've rehabilitated me, and maybe you have helped me to see things somewhat more...clearly. But it will never change what we both know to be true."_

_"No. I know you aren't that. We wouldn't be having this conversation right now if I believed that. You don't have to hide it from me. I want you to open up, express how you really feel. The way I have with you. I want to help you be at peace."_

_"I don't need a savior. I'm not looking for a therapist any more than I desire to be yours. And your __attempts to imitate Uncle won't earn you good will with me. Especially when we're discussing my love life, or lack thereof."_

_"I know. I've come to realize that's not what you want or need. __So I just want to be your brother. Let me be here for you, in my own way."_

_"Let me be your...Zuzu." He almost choked on the nickname she'd cursed him to wear eternally. Lately though, it had almost become an appellation. Less a designation born of condescension, and more like its original intention. _

_She never would've never expected him to use the name he loathed so much in self reference. It was clunky, awkward, and completely wrong coming out of his mouth. Unbeknownst to him, it took all of her willpower to suppress a snorting laugh from escaping. _

_Perhaps just this once she would let her guard down and be a bit undignified around him. If only to make him feel more at ease, so he didn't mistake the sincerity of her words. _

_"You will always be my big dum-dum of a brother. You will always be my Zuzu."_

_The motion is soft, slight, and over almost as quickly as it was initiated. Yet the subtle brush of her hand against his own awakened an odd sensation internally. Melancholy and warmth pass through him, over as quickly as they manifested. _

_"Since you're so enlightened about love, perhaps you could give me lessons, a demonstration maybe..."_

_The suggestion earned her a priceless look of horror and bewildered speechlessness.  
_

_"No, you're right, I think you're out of your element on this one," she laughed. _

_"Not funny."_

* * *

She'd never been one to complain about the climate of her homeland. It was here that she was in her element, immersed in the environment that served to amplify her natural talents, surrounded by the creature comforts of home, one of which being the warm but temperate springs. Yet inevitably the cycle would go through its rotations again, and spring would become engulfed by the heatwaves of summer reborn. Normally, one as iron-willed as her would not bat an eyelash at the sun's surge. She was a prodigal bender, a master of fire. So it would stand to reason that she could deal with high temperatures, and not let minor discomfort affect her routine. But this current blast was beyond ridiculous, even for living in the center of a volcano. If she didn't know better, she could've sworn the metals of the palace roof were beginning to melt off the foundation.

"This is torture." Azula spoke out loud, though there was no one around to hear.

In her heat-induced delirium, she couldn't find it in herself to care whether a hapless servant would come wandering by and catch her talking to herself. She didn't feel like burning anyone today. Though she was desperate for some sort of distraction from the dreadful weather, all she could stand to do was laze on the chaise lounge in the drawing room, trying to stem the flow of sweat off her brow.

To make matters worse, she was so terribly bored. Though she'd always prided herself on being able to find innovative ways to entertain herself, they had nearly all involved Mai, Ty Lee, or Zuko. Whether it was thinking up new ways to embarrass, provoke, or subjugate them, her creative sadism always created scenarios ripe for her enjoyment. How nostalgic she had become for the times she tricked Ty Lee into suffocating Mai with thirty minute long hugs, or the countless times Zuko had been coaxed unknowingly into bodily harm. The incident with the fire ants in his underwear was a particular favorite of hers to reminisce about.

It had been sobering for her to discover just how much external stimulus she craved; how badly she needed an outlet beyond refining her bending. Though she was loathe to admit it, she did indeed get the desire to socialize sometimes, at least as long as it was on her terms. But over the years the opportunities to do so had become more and more scarce, as the two so-called friends she once had abandoned her long ago, and royal duties consumed her daily schedule. Though she would never confess it to anyone, there was occasionally a tinge of loneliness that had occupied her in her more vulnerable moments, and though again she'd never willingly express the full extent of her appreciation, she was thankful that she could at least count on one person to be there for her.

Sad as it was, Azula could not deny that Zuko now served multiple crucial roles in her life. He was her sibling, her spouse, her ally, her opposition, her bane, her boon, her crutch, and her best friend all rolled into one reliable package. Maladjusted though she might have been, it wasn't hard to recognize why this presented problems. For one thing, he was usually just as preoccupied as her. Certainly there were lulls in the daily responsibilities of ruling. But it was hard to enjoy quality time when your partner over-taxed himself and allocated his limited reserves of undivided attention to the undeserving so liberally.

Second, as the years passed it became increasingly difficult to get the same kind of rise out of him as when they were kids. Zuko had grown up, become more self-assured and less irritable. He wasn't the same reckless hothead he'd been as a boy. Now he was a man. And such an impudent man! Didn't he understand that her prodding and flicking was purely affectionate? It wasn't that she'd grown bored with him, quite the contrary. It made the conflicts they did have that much more enjoyable. A test to see how much pressure she could apply and how much he could withstand. But now that it required more effort, she didn't care to invest as much energy in riling him up. Not that it ever changed the predetermined outcome of her success.

Third, interaction with society was hindered by their unique arrangement. While technically legal and not subject to anyone's objections, Azula was aware that some in the nobility may have found their relationship less than palatable. True, those who knew or were in a position to know never pried or opened their mouths publicly. It was not to their benefit to ask too many questions or voice their distaste, lest they compromise their positions and the comforts they provided. And those far below their station would have little knowledge or incentive to know, though doubtless the gossipy whispers that must echo through the streets beyond the capitol and down into the slums piqued the curiosities of the lowliest beggars.

Not that she cared. The prospect of making friends with the sniveling nobles was not enticing in the least. What would she and Zuko do? Have tea at some upstart's house only so they could chat their ears off and try to elbow their way into a position of even greater prominence? She was not very fond of the idea of some career house wife incessantly bragging about her idiot husband's meager accomplishments, or vice versa.

And fourth, and most simple of all, yet unfortunately impossible to rectify, at least not voluntarily: Zuko was a man. Though she appreciated his masculinity- having grown up in an environment where such traits were fostered and encouraged- she still longed to interact with someone who could better relate to her more feminine side. Yes, all of Ty Lee's mindless chatter about boys and auras and dresses had irritated her. But it could occasionally be entertaining, and informative. If there was one thing Azula appreciated it was good gossip. Such information could be invaluable when trying to blackmail an ascendant elite who had become too ambitious. And if she got to share a laugh over how tacky their clothes were, all the better.

Her racing mind was quieted as the heat came to dominate her train of thought once again. She pulled her headpiece out and let the long black strands fall down past her shoulders. Peeling back the layers of long burgundy robes until she was left in a thin long-sleeved undershirt and grey pants, she at last felt some relief.

_Speaking of tacky clothes_...

She yanked her pointed shoes off, allowing her toes to breathe.

_...I need to expand my wardrobe. I know all the tailors tell me I have impeccable taste, which is true, but I think they're just trying avoid banishment. Perhaps I'll get one of those shoulder cape things the soldiers are so fond of these days. Though those new uniforms are excessively black and grey. Suitable for someone with a demeanor like Mai's maybe, but not enough reds for my liking. _

_What am I saying? I'm a royal. I don't need to be a slave to the conventional. I'm the one who sets the standard. Fashion is such nonsense anyway. Function over form, right? But these long, stuffy robes are anything but functional..._

_Maybe...maybe I need someone to help me. Another woman would be best. Younger; privy to modern sensibilities. Someone I can trust to be honest about how things fit. But who? _

Azula sprang up.

* * *

Flipping through the pages of her book, legs crossed, her back buried in her pillows, Izumi had managed to find insulation from the sun in her corner of the palace. Her room was tolerable enough that she didn't feel like she was being immolated, though she'd had to remove all her blankets from the bed. As much as she disliked summer, the weeks of relative freedom she had to look forward to had made the scorching heat worth it.

_Ahh, feels nice to slack off and have nothing to worry about. No lessons, no reciting poetry about Sozin, no tsungi horn practice. And if this heatwave keeps up, Mom won't want to train. _

_Yep, quality me time. With no one to bother me. _

_I wonder what Mom's even doing right now. Probably torturing someone, or looking for someone to torture._

Izumi's eyes darted up. A pair of golden orbs bordered by onyx hair were peeping from the side of the doorway.

"OH! UHHH...h-hey!"

Izumi fumbled around with the book, unsure of where to hide it, finally opting to throw it under her pillows. She sat up, red-faced and sweating, and put on the widest smile she could manage.

The woman revealed her full form and stepped into the room.

"Dearest daughter, did I scare you? Am I interrupting something?"

"N-no n-not at all!"

"Excellent. Because I have a very important task for you."

"A task!? For me? G-great!"

_ARGHHH! Damn it!_

"I need you..."

_I hate my life._

"To...

_I was so close to finally being free. Why does the universe hate me? I did this, didn't I? I willed it into happening because I dared to invoke her name. Please put me out of my misery alre..._

"...Help me look more fashionable."

_WHAT!?_

"Huh?" Izumi couldn't hide how utterly lost she was.

"I thought you and I could have some clothes made. I realized my tastes might be slightly outdated. You've been picking things out for yourself for years now. You must have an eye for these things."

"Mom, you're only thirty-two. You talk like you were born before the first airship took flight."

"...I was..."

_Yeah, I know. Old woman. _

_"_Well you don't look like it to me. You wear your age very well. You don't look a day over thirty."

_You wear those crow's feet well. Old woman._

"Well of course, thirty-two is only two years over thirty Izumi. You can count, can't you?"

Izumi facepalmed internally. _She's so literal. They do say your ability to pick up on sarcasm gets worse as you age. _

"The thing is, I'd have about as good of an idea as you would. It's not like I spend a lot of time out in the city, hanging out with other girls. I've always just picked what I liked and never gave it much more thought."

"True. You do spend a lot of time in your room."

"Exactly." Her teeth began to grind.

_It's my haven away from you. The haven you've violated the sanctity of. _

"Still, I think your input would be valuable. So let's get moving."

"I wouldn't want to mislead you into picking the wrong stuff. The tailors know better than me."

Azula turned her back to the hesitant girl and studied her nails.

"No, I understand completely. You'd prefer to spend time engrossed in your book. It looks captivating, truly. Worth every minute you'll spend sitting in the dungeon."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Izumi's eyes narrowed. Her tone was low; it was less a question, almost a challenge.

"Last time I checked, possession of treasonous materials was a severe offense, punishable with a lengthy stay in prison. But, hm, perhaps I was mistaken. I'm not certain I saw the book's cover clearly enough. Refresh my memory Izumi. Did I see 'Wang Wei's Guide to Immaculate Style', or, 'The Seismic State'?"

"...Wang Wei's Guide to Immaculate Style."

"I thought so. Forgive me, my eyes aren't as sharp as they were when I was thirty."

_Bitch._

* * *

"How does this look Izumi? Izumi?"

She'd dozed off in the middle of watching the tailor use her mother as a mannequin, giving her all manner of things to try, none of which struck Izumi as particularly flattering. As expected neither of them were particularly knowledgeable about the finer points of fashion, though it was debatable whether the tailor was either.

She sat up in her chair. "Hmm? Oh! Ummm..."

"Yes? What do you think?"

"Honestly, that's pretty garish. I don't think the extra frills are really your thing."

"Ugh! This man-what is the point of being a tailor if you're too blind to see beyond your own fat, wrinkly old nose!?"

"Hmmmm...how about that?"

"That's disgusting."

"That one?"

"I'll look like a spinster"

"This?"

"That's scandalous. I'm not a nightwalker."

"Hmmm. How about that black one right there?"

"What is with this obsession with black? And with none of the traditional accents. Where's the red, where's the gold? Is that your generation's thing? To look like dreary, unpatriotic mopes?"

"Actually, it's only a rumor but, I've heard it came into style because it represents some sort of silent cultural shift that people think occurred after the Day of Black Sun. It's a powerful, imposing color, but also somber, and associated with death. Maybe it became fashionable because people were lamenting the loss of life the war brought. Or the death of the Fire Nation they knew, or the birth of a more powerful, yet restrained nation."

"Well I don't feel myself changing, and I don't feel particularly somber. I am angry that I wasted time on this stupid endeavor. And I am more than powerful and imposing enough to have that idiot's business burned to the ground. But unfortunately for him, I have little restraint left."

Why not try it on? What're you out?"

"...Fine. But if I hate it you're grounded for a month."

"That's not fair! I'm only trying to help!"

"Don't be so literal Izumi. I'm only kidding."

_This woman is going to make me have a stroke. _

Azula grabbed the garment from off the table and sauntered behind the byobu, checking that the screen was aligned properly to provide adequate cover.

"Okay, well...here I go. No peeking."

Izumi diverted her eyes. Azula slipped the dress on and studied herself carefully in the body mirror. It was form fitting, but not overly revealing. Fairly modest, yet it's unique design and fit would undoubtedly garner attention. She stepped out from behind the screen.

"What'd you think?"

Izumi was taken by surprise. She hadn't expected it to look, well, so good. Her mother was in very good shape, and the dress only helped to reinforce just how well she looked after herself.

"Wow, that looks great on you."

"You really think so?"

"Yeah! It suits you. Sleek and simple."

"I kind of like it too. I feel intimidating in it. Like I could force an entire regiment of earth benders to surrender with a single glance."

The door burst open and a portly middle-aged man limped in, sweating and wheezing. His attempts to force words out were in vain, so he resigned himself to placing his hands on his knees and catching his breath to stave off his body's desire to faint. Eventually he'd composed himself enough that he could manage to form words in between gasps of air.

"My...my...sincerest...apologies...your...your majesty! I don't know how...how I could've been so forgetful...but rest assured...I have my trusty measuring tape...oh! I see something has caught your fancy."

"Mr..." Azula snapped her fingers at him, trying to ascertain the name she'd completely disregarded.

"Fang, your grace." He bowed his head slightly.

"Mr. Fang, I'm quite taken with this dress. Let's discuss payment."

"E-excellent my lady! May I say, it fits you wonderfully. I feel foolish for running off to grab my supplies; I see they weren't needed."

"As you should. Actually, hold that thought. First-Izumi, tell our plodding friend here how he can serve you today."

"Oh no, that's fine. I-"

"Nonsense, he already went to the trouble of taking your measurements."

Izumi rubbed her chin. "Well...do you think you could do something in purple?"

Azula's eyebrow shot up inquisitively. She smirked and nodded at Mr. Fang.

"Of-of course my lady! I'll have some concepts drawn up right away. U-unless you already had something in mind of course!"

"As a matter of fact, I do." Izumi smiled at the man. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to sketch it myself."

"Yes princess, as you wish!" Mr. Fang dabbed his handkerchief on his still damp brow.

"Great, now Mr. Fang, if you wouldn't mind, my daughter and I would like to go about our day."

"Of-of course! I'll be leaving post-haste, but uh, regarding the matter of payment..."

"Oh yes, here...take this note. Your money will be delivered in a few days."

"Y-yes. Thank you your grace."

Fang turned to leave, and just as he was almost out the door he stopped and turned.

"I-if you know of anyone else of prominence looking to have clothing made, remember, I have the finest selection available and I'm able to fulfill any requ..."

"Yes, of course you are. Good day."

Azula slammed the door in his face.

* * *

Water cascaded down her scalp, granting her much needed relief from the heat and cleansing away the film of sweat that had coated her face. She hadn't expected her mother to drag her along to the royal spa, but she couldn't deny it had made suffering through all the dress up worth it. A relaxing hair combing, a soothing foot bath. These were the luxuries she was willing to sacrifice her personal time for.

The servants had all been dismissed, leaving her and Azula alone in silence, for once blissful and untainted by any tension. Yet now more than ever Izumi felt the pull of an indispensable opportunity to have her mother's ear and undivided attention.

"Hey, can I ask you something?"

Azula's eyes stayed closed, her head tilted back, an unusually satisfied smile on her face.

"Your inquisitiveness knows no limit, does it my lovely daughter? Relax, quiet your mind. Spa treatments like these are how we fire benders strengthen our chi. Breathe, control your thoughts."

Izumi looked over at Azula eagerly.

"Really?"

"No. I just wanted you to stay quiet a little longer."

Izumi deadpanned. She threw her head back against the chair once more, but her eyes stayed open, scanning her opulent surroundings.

"You've been to the Earth Kingdom, right?"

"Yes, multiple times. Why? Looking for a change of scenery? I always heard they gave 'special treatment' to high ranking defectors. Not the good kind. Of course that was during the war."

"No, that's not it. I was wondering...what is your impression of it?"

"You'll have to be a bit more specific. By 'it', do you mean the people or the land? Both are awful, for mostly the same reasons. Although they are quite hospitable. On my first 'visit' I was treated like a queen."

"I mean, like, the whole thing. The culture. The people, the landscape."

"They are fairly formidable opponents. Worse as allies. Annoyingly resilient. But boisterous, loud, easy to understand. Despite their seemingly endless supply of manpower they lack the cunning and industriousness necessary to usurp our position in the world. There are exceptions to every rule though..."

Izumi nodded. "I'm surprised with all that they've suffered through, they've stayed so optimistic."

"Yes, it's that optimism we were so close to crushing out of them. Had we succeeded, things could've been so different. Not like the mess we have now."

"Are you saying it'd been better if we'd won? After all the tragedy we caused!? You don't really believe that, do you?"

"Of course I do. Look what the world has become instead. A powder keg waiting to be ignited. If the peoples of the other nations had had the foresight and wisdom to realize what was best for them they would've accepted their subjugation, and taken advantage of all the opportunities it offered."

"But what about the poor who suffered? The young men sent to die to defend their land. The men we sent to take their land. And for us, what? Glory? How can you just ignore the people caught in the middle? What good is glory to someone who is starving, or to a mother who's lost her son?"

"If they'd had the strength to persevere they'd have done so, and been better off for it. That's how people strengthen themselves. They rise to life's challenges and confront them, learn the skills necessary for survival and master them. If they fail to, they die."

The teenage girl could no longer contain the emotions brewing inside of her. She became hysterical.

"So what if it were me? What if I'd been out there and gotten killed? Would you think differently? Would you even care!?"

"Why are you getting so upset? We weren't talking about you."

"Because you're so callous! Do you hear yourself? How can you be so focused on victory that you don't see all the suffering it causes? Don't you have any compassion!?"

Azula bit her tongue. "This isn't the first time I've had this conversation. I don't need to entertain it once again. Not from you."

"I want to believe that you have it inside of you. That it's buried down deep but that it's there."

"Don't waste energy hoping for the impossible. I'm not like your father. You know I'm not. I don't share his penance for 'thoughtfulness'. She rolled her eyes. "My ability to empathize is...stunted."

Now it was Azula's turn to become hysteric.

"Yet who is the one they rely on to enforce their will? Who is the one they depend on to bring them their glory? If I'm so selfish and evil, why do I work tirelessly to get their plans executed? Why do I serve my nation with no reservations!?"

Azula's voice fell to a whisper. "Does that make me evil?"

A soft hand gripped her shoulder, tentatively at first, but then firm and unwavering.

"It doesn't make you evil. But blind obedience doesn't make you righteous either."

"I-I know that. But I have to devote myself to something. I have to have something to trust. Something to give me purpose."

"Mom...I...I think I understand now."

Izumi placed her hand gently on top of Azula's. The atmosphere had shifted once again, a calm silence replacing the conflict and unease.

"We should talk like this more often. It's cathartic."

"Let's not make a habit out of it. The talking, not the girl time."

* * *

Author's note: The longest chapter yet, and it's almost entirely filler. True to Avatar form, there will periodically be filler chapters with side stories that don't directly advance the main plot in any meaningful way. I guess in a story that's primarily oriented around family dynamics and explaining how a relationship came to be there's really no "filler" when the royals are being explored. But they won't always be the focus. If you ever want to skip a filler chapter, you can identify them by the title. Main story chapters are always single words, filler stories multiple. Main story chapters don't have headers, filler stories will always have a quote at the top. Be aware, some of these chapters might have main plot developments in them, but I'm thinking if I do include them it'll be at the very end so you can skip right to the bottom and get caught up.

Also, so far this story has been really tame. We've had allusions to death and violence, and a minor injury to our...anti-heroine? Anti-villainess? In the next chapter, things get a little cutthroat, and really explosive. Blood is about to rain on our happy little parade. But whose? And to what end? An Agni Kai seems to be the catalyst, but rarely are things as simple as they seem when it comes to Fire Nation politics.


End file.
